A Flat Built For Two
by Xx.Toxic.Little.KisseS.xX
Summary: No one wants them, they're just Nobody's with nothing to look forward to... -akuroku au- but, without a heart, one Nobody thinks he can find a way to afford a little attachment


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_toxic little kisses + akuroku present..._

**FLAT BUILT FOR TWO**

_warning- prostitution, homosexuality, angst, sap._

_and yes, i plead artistic license of the 3rd degree, and tell you to call my non-existent lawyer to discuss my non-existent claim on this game, and these characters. thank you._

_feedback is always appreciated, though i know the story is short._

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Roxas is dark and angry and full of hate when he's dragged back to the orphanage a week after escaping.

He's dressed top to toe like a prostitute, all leather and fishnet and eyeliner trails.

He's thrown back in with all the other nobody's. Maximum security fot the runaway's that no one wants, they exist to no one but the people who get paid to feed and dress and keep them.

"Welcome back," Larxene cackles. A girl amongst boys, her icy words and cunning sneak is all that keeps her safe here.

She's learnt to play the bitch, it's better then playing the damsel in distress in this prison.

And Roxas glares. all dark and dangerous as she sways her hips away, letting them all see what they could never touch.

The others see him, and for now that's enough. Even Si'ax leaves him alone for tonight.

Not Axel.

Axel pauses, just out of reach, though for who's benefit _that_ is is unclear.

"How many?"

Lipstick doesn't lie.

"To many," Roxas promises with an instinctual sneer, otherwise the self-discust he feels to himself would bring them both spiraling down to disappear, "can you still say it?"

Sigh, ego and flames show disappointment when they look everywhere but where they want to go, "still want to."

Heartbreak, if Roxas would let it. Instead he snarls something garbled and stalks to his bed to see what's gone missing since he left.

Outside the wall's of this Nobody-prison, maybe Axel would understand.

A heart could only be broken, it's better not to have one.

But Axel only runs to places - pub's and club's and tattoo parlors.

Roxas runs to people.

Watched his little brother from a distance, awed and envious of how Sora's blossomed since adoption.

Then he weaves his way to Xemnas.

Xemnas always knows people who want to spend money.

Doesn't care that every 'meeting' or 'date' Roxas agrees to sinks him further and further into that broken place he's locked his heart into.

He gets money from the cut Xemnas doles him for every baggie he doesn't bring back.

He gets his commission from hand-jobs, and blow-jobs and the desperate few who want a quick rut in an alley way while their wives do the shopping.

And Roxas keeps the money safe, keeps the money hidden.

The boy looks up from his backpack, chancing a glance at Axel through his bangs.

His chest rattled where his heart once skipped a beat. If Axel knew, what the money was for...

No. Facts change nothing.

He'd still feel the hurt of a broken heart, still ache with the want to love a nobody without feeling.

And Roxas is nothing without Axel. Even though he keeps the boy at arms length, refusing to let the redhead closer to the abyss that is Roxas' life.

Roxas is just a prostitute without Axel. Not a broken orphan saving up enough for a flat built for two.

He's just another piece-of-trash with a tin can full of money and a back pack full og leather and fishnet.

Then Axel looks up to notice Roxas' stare.

His eyes glow that beautiful golden-green. He offers a small smile to the watching boy, unsure and hurt (again) but always, always hopeful.

...Maybe there was enough saved up after all.

Maybe he'd broken Axel's heart enough to tell him the reason why.

Why the leather and lace and lipstick that perfect shade of obscure.

Slowly he feels his lips twitch into a small smile, and Axel all but beams at the sight.

Yes, maybe that tin can was full enough for a flat built for two. For a couch and a bed and a fridge full of ice-creams.

Maybe there's enough there to keep them sane in that flat, while Xemnas pays them wages as they push drugs down people's throats.

Axel would push too, push and push and push, if it stopped Roxas leaving the house in leather and fishnet and eyeliner.

The lights shut off overhead, and Larxene mutters something to whoever she was talking to as she goes off to override the switch, like only she knows how.

Roxas shifts from his bed, while the dark keeps others where they are.

He moved swiftly to Axel, to the redheads spot leaning against the window, puffing away at these orphans idea of real currency.

The darkness bleeds Axel's colour away, but there's no mistaking the tall and sharp silhouette.

Roxas places one hand on the other boys chest. Leans up high as he can on his toes, pressed his face against the side of Axel's.

"When they fall asleep, come with me," he offers, explanations can wait till they get free.

He falls back to move away, but Axel's hand is trapping his elbow, and the whole tall and sharp shape shifts, "only me."

There's no mistaking the warning, Axel is as sure as Roxas is tainted.

There's no lipstick left on Roxas' lips, and that's what makes it so goddamn _beautiful_ when he finally steals a taste of the boy that's loved him since he's lost his parents.

"Only you," Roxas whispers, then moves fast as he can to reclaim his bed before some fucker takes it from him, on principle alone.

The rattle in his chest squeezed, and damn, it felt like something reviving in there.

-

The floor creaks.

The couch is the bed, and it consists of matress and blanket.

The back door doesn't lock without a harsh love lap.

The lights flicker, no matter the weather or age of globe.

The rats creep, louder then the neighbours scream.

The freezer is full of sea-salt ice creams.

The graffiti on the wall is their own.

The faucets never drip unless provoked.

The toliet never backs up.

The windows had curtains that kept out peepers.

Xemnas was still happy enough to keep Roxas employed, now that no one will find the blond, the baggies sell and sell and sell, the sex is unecisarry now.

Axel had visited the tattoo parlour enough that he finally scored an apprenticeship. Roxas swore he'd get a tattoo, when Axel was good enough to do it himself.

Axel had 2 months before he was 18, Roxas had 16.

The orphanage had given up looking.

It was all illegal, immoral, or irregular.

Axel shallowly bucked, immersed in a dream world, Roxas shifted, rolled, until he was facing him.

The blond curled in closer, arms tightening around the redhead, before he let out a soft, contented, snore.

A flat built for two.

So, fucking, perfect.

(xxx)


End file.
